Book Review

  • Detective, Arthur Hailey

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Berkley, 1997, 595 pages, C$10.99 mmpb, ISBN 0-425-16386-5

    Arthur Hailey is best known for novels that peeked under the surface of familiar institutions to reveal their inner mechanics. Hotel and Airport became blockbuster movies that did much to ensure Hailey’s continuing bestsellerdom. The Moneychangers dealt with banks. Wheels talked about the Detroit auto industry. Overload took on the power-generating industry. The Evening News… well, you get the picture.

    In all cases, Hailey delivered intricately researched novels, seemingly taking more delight in showing us fascinating facts than in building a satisfying plot. You could say that Hailey practiced the technothriller years before the genre was formally defined by Tom Clancy. In almost all cases, the first half of his books -“the guided tour”- was far more interesting than the eventual plot of said novels. But as long as the guided tour was interesting, no one really minded.

    In his latest novel, Detective, Hailey takes us behind the scenes at the Miami Police Department. In doing so, he faces perhaps the greatest creative challenge of his career: If there’s a social institution that’s been explored over the years, it’s police departments. The whole sub-genre of police procedurals, for instance, is based upon describing details of police work. Seasoned veterans of this sub-genre -and, given the popularity of crime-fiction, most general readers- already know most of the essential details; what could Hailey teach us?

    The only way to avoid major problems would be for Hailey to abandon his usual reliance on “the Guided Tour” and, for once, give us a good plot sustained during the whole book.

    Fortunately, he (mostly) manages to do that. Detective plunges in the story in an admirably efficient fashion, as a Miami police detective is summoned at the side of a death-row inmate. In a few deft pages, we’re in flashback city as previous events unfold (sometime in nestled flashbacks) and bring us up to speed in short order. The rest of the novel is smooth going, as elements of the plot are developed effectively and the writing is as compulsively readable as anything else written in the sub-genre.

    I added the (mostly) qualifier because even though Detective is written with professionalism and skill, it suffers from major structural problems by the end of the book. As a crucial element of proof is uncovered, a hundred pages before the end, it essentially concludes any suspense as to the whodunit part of the plot. Everything else is redundant explanation or mechanical conclusion. The final climax seems as contrived as perfunctory.

    Hailey might, in fact, be too professional in his approach; everything wraps up so neatly that it approaches ludicrousness. A minor criminal cannot simply be a minor criminal, but somehow be related in an exotic fashion to one of the book’s character to illustrate some kind or ironic counterpoint. The identity of the murderer can be deduced from a presence at an unlikely point. The fantastically gifted protagonist isn’t “just” a top-notch detective, but also an adulterous ex-priest… convenient…

    It doesn’t matter much, though. Detective remains a good read and a good story. Worth a look, not only for Hailey fans, but also for anyone looking for some effortless entertainment.

  • Carrion Comfort, Dan Simmons

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Warner, 1989, 884 pages, C$6.95 mmpb, ISBN 0-446-35920-3

    One of Carrion Comfort‘s main characters is a Hollywood movie producer of the shlocky kind. It’s not hard to imagine someone like him taking a look an an early version of this novel and berating the author: “I want more sex! I want more violence! I want more action scenes! Give me helicopters, Nazis, explosions, gay sex, conspiracies, religion, chases, nuclear submarines and destroyers! Give me more! I want more! More! More!”

    Because Dan Simmons’ Carrion Comfort has it all; it’s the epitome of the blockbuster horror novel, the type of book designed to be so over the top that you can’t but admire its audaciousness. You’ll cheer as you cringe, and laugh while you’re disgusted.

    The premise itself is endlessly rich in sadistic possibilities: Simmons postulates the existence of a group of “psychic vampires” (so to speak) that have the Ability (or Power, or Talent) to take control of other people’s minds, effectively controlling them for as long as they want. From that point, it’s ridiculously easy to imagine these Mind-vampires indulging themselves in gory violence, simply because they can. Lack of accountability has its privileges.

    Expanded from the novella of the same name, Carrion Comfort tacks on 850 pages to the original story, taking it much farther than Simmons’ initial effort. What gradually emerges isn’t an expansion of three Mind-vampires’ game of remote killing, but a power struggle between highly-placed forces of evil. The French Translation of the novel is aptly titled Evil’s Checkerboard (L’échiquier du mal, actually)

    In theory, it sounds impressive. In practice, it has numerous great moments but suffers too much from unequal pacing to be epic horror. At 880-odd pages, it’s inevitable that there are long stretches in the book, but the second quarter seems to serve no other purpose than to kill off a main character. The third is dedicated to preparations for the fourth quarter. (It doesn’t really help that by mid-book, we have a pretty good idea of where the book’s going to end, and with whom.)

    To be fair, some of the action set-pieces are so good that they elevate the book to “should-read” status anyway. There’s a spectacular helicopter explosion. A few great confrontations between the Mind-vampires and our dedicated protagonists. A momentous final chess game. A great set-piece inside a semitransparent airplane where the ultimate villain reveals himself to be far more powerful than anyone suspected.

    And to be frank, the characters are developed with a lot of skill. Despite the large cast of characters and the multiple double-crossing parties, the plot remains easy to follow and to enjoy.

    Did I say “enjoy”? Truth is, Carrion Comfort isn’t for the weak-stomached among us. It’s filled with gratuitously grisly material, pushing violence and exploitative sex to levels which might be unbearable for some. But then again, why would these people read horror?

    In any case, this big bad horror package is exactly what you should read if ever you start wondering what Hollywood could do with an unlimited budget and none of those pesky parental ratings problems. Granted, Carrion Comfort isn’t subtle, particularly original, or even better than competent in its execution (making it a great horror novel would require editing out maybe three hundred pages) but it’s a whole lot of fun.

    Nazis, Vampires, explosions, sex, violence, religion, money, power… wrapped in carefully-chosen psychobabble to give it a sheen of respectability. I tell you; this book’s got it all. Don’t feel too guilty for enjoying it; after all, mom told you to eat properly, but that never stopped you from enjoying that occasional burger, right?

  • Fahrenheit 451, Ray Bradbury

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Del Rey, 1953, 179 pages, C$5.50 mmpb, ISBN 0-345-34296-8

    The true measure of a classic is how well it withstands the test of time. Whether or not it’s firmly grounded in a contemporary setting, a classic will carry through universal themes that will resonate decades, even centuries after the work is done. You can watch CASABLANCA today and still marvel at how good the dialogues are, and how well the film is constructed. Even if some details are lost or seem antiquated, the main message still comes through. So it is with Fahrenheit 451.

    Everyone’s got their blind spots. In my case, even though I’m a card-carrying SF geek, I had never read one of the most important works of the genre, Ray Bradbury’s 1954 classic Fahrenheit 451. Nor seen the Francois Truffault film. Of course I knew the story, from multiple comments about the work, family members who vividly remembered the film and other various sources. But as for the original work itself; no I hadn’t read it.

    Fortunately, cultural deficiencies are easy to correct, and it took barely a day to breeze through Bradbury’s book. Fahrenheit 451 is, like most SF novels of that time, a short novel that doesn’t stray far from its central idea, nor burden the narrative with useless subplots. The story here stays firmly with the character of Guy Montague, a fireman in a future state where firemen are not public guardians, but instruments of state-controlled censorship; they burn books. (“Houses have always been fireproof!” states a character, as if this fantasy needed rationalizing.)

    Montague, as is the norm in novels of this type, discovers the forbidden knowledge, rebels, is discovered and tries to escape. Put this book alongside 1984, Brave New World and The Handmaid’s Tale and not only do you have four variations on the same plot, but you also have an unimaginative High School English course.

    But that would be belittling Fahrenheit 451‘s impact, which is even more important today than ever before. No, you’ll say, the first amendment (or local equivalent) has always withstood all attempts at censorship, but the truth is that censorship is now far more devious than ever before… and is now practiced not exclusively by the government, but by seemingly righteous groups and -most ominously- giant corporations trying their damnedest to co-opt the government in doing the dirty work.

    Don’t believe me? As of this writing (September 2000),

    • A fundamentalist conservative “liberal” vice-presidential candidate is trying to impose anti-violent standards to film and television “to protect the children” and uphold ill-defined “standards of morality”.
    • The Recording Industry Association of America is trying to shut down Napster, a file-exchange method that could become an alternate delivery channel, by blaming “piracy”, again with ill-defined arguments.
    • The Motion Picture Association of America is suing a magazine for republishing a decryption algorithm to defeat a copy-protection scheme.
    • Lobby groups from entertainment corporation (ie; Disney) have modified copyrights laws to extend them to 100 years after the death of an author, effectively preventing all works made after WWI from becoming public domain.
    • At the same time, individual American states are passing laws that essentially state that all software is now effectively rented from their manufacturer, who then acquires the rights to tell you how to use it.

    All of which corral the consumer/citizen in a world when everything is owned by someone, and that someone can dictate what you can say about it. No book-burning, no, but do you seriously think that, if the concept of libraries would be invented today, it wouldn’t be sued in oblivion?

    Thank you, Ray Bradbury, for writing something like this, with the power of making me hyperventilate nearly fifty years after. Thank you for such a great book. Thank you for the chief fireman’s speech, which encapsulate all censorship nightmares in one chapter. Thank you for that manhunt which is ever-closer to reality TV. Thank you for a book where the tune is more important than the words, but where no one would dare change any of your words. Thank you for Fahrenheit 451; if you’re remembered only for that, it’ll be a life well-spent.

  • Boy Wonder, James Robert Baker

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Signet, 1988, 560 pages, C$5.99 mmpb, ISBN 0-451-16506-3

    Long-winded reviewer

    It has become common to say that Hollywood is insane beyond imagination. But Boy Wonder one-ups every true story you’re heard so far, and that’s no mean feat.

    Jacket Blurb

    Cross CITIZEN KANE with BLUE VELVET and you’ll get some idea of this wide-screen send-up of the movie business as it follows the career of Shark Trager -rebel filmmaker and mega-successful producer- from his birth in 1950 at a drive-in movie theater and his meteoric rise to the pinnacle of Hollywood power, to his equally spectacular descent, crash, and burn.

    Snotty critic, gesticulating

    The real post-modern narrative breakthrough of this so-called comedy -for it is rather truly a savage attack on American values- is in its deconstruction of a traditional narrative flow into pseudo-interview excepts of fictional characters said to have known Shark Trager, but really; is the concept of cognizance truly meaningful, ask the author-

    Eighth-grade student, struggling with book review

    Mister Trager is not a good man at all. He does not like his father, does evil drugs and make bad movies.

    Film geek

    Both the best and most disappointing elements of Boy Wonder come from James Robert Baker’s handling of Hollywood excess through Shark Trager’s films. One of them, WHITE HEAT, takes the concept of the “killing couple” to its logical extreme, foreshadowing films such as NATURAL BORN KILLERS. The production of another, Red Surf, ends up with one of the most outrageously spectacular scene of a novel that already contains several moments of pure insane delight. It perfectly exemplifies the bigger-explosions-are-better mentality that pervades the atmosphere of certain blockbusters like, oh, ARMAGEDDON. BLUE LIGHT is the culmination of all those nonsense feel-good epics than mix half realism with half new-age pseudo-mysticism and end up attracting crowds for nothing more but simplistic philosophy and great production values. FORREST GUMP, anyone? Is it an accident if all of these movies came after Boy Wonder was written, or another depressing reminder that the real Hollywood often imitates fiction?

    Long-winded reviewer

    Beyond the simple satire, however, one could go crazy trying to plot the complex character interrelationships gradually interweaved during the narrative. Fittingly enough for a pseudo-biography, Baker has succeeded in creating a full fictional life, as unlikely as this life is.

    Teenage guy

    Hot damn! Fast cars, hot sex, hard drugs, big explosions, tons of deaths and one screwed-up hero! I didn’t read about any Nazis in there, but that’s pretty much the only thing missing. Wouldn’t it be sweet if there was one?

    Ecstatic Bible-thumper

    This reprehensible book has been sent from the flaming pits of hell itself! It has to be the raunchiest, most offensive novel in the past ten years! I will not subject you, dear readers, to the ignominy of a description of the perversions contained between these covers, but only take my word for it and avoid! Boy Wonder isn’t only disgraceful in itself, but it is an affront to society, family values and God itself.

    Long-winded critic

    Obviously, this very outrageousness is the core of one’s enjoyment of Boy Wonder. Part of the pleasure is reading the completely demented scenes of Shark Trager’s life and taking delight in how fantastically over-the-top this all is.

    Film geek

    Unfortunately, outrageousness takes its toll, and I started wondering why there wasn’t even more good stuff in the book. By the climax -which obviously takes place at the Oscars-, even public nudity, homosexual sex, heavy drug usage, constant bickering and a sudden death seem all a bit under-whelming. But that’s a minor quibble, much as at the end, I would have liked to seen even more films made by Trager. It would have been nice, also, to depart even more from the sort of alternate Hollywood created by Baker to accommodate Shark Trager.

    Teen guy

    More, more, more!

    Long-winded critic

    Ultimately, Baker has realized a tour-de-force, given as he can sustain, at the same time, his concept, his protagonist, his gallery of characters, his satire and his sweep of thirty years of history while presenting everything in a crystal-clear prose.

    Teen guy

    You know, I don’t like reading, but that book, I just couldn’t stop.

    Long-winded critic

    And so we come to the type of recommendation that every critic loves to make: A revelation. Boy Wonder isn’t a very popular book, nor is James Robert Baker a best-selling author. But Boy Wonder is worth tracking down in libraries, in used bookstores and in flea markets; it’s that good. Few novels approach its satiric edge or its extreme outrageousness. It is a memorable book and a great read. Do not miss it.

    [September 2000: Good news, very bad news: While an official site exists at http://jamesrobertbaker.com/ (along with a present-day update on Kathy Pedro), it states that Robert James Baker unfortunately committed suicide in 1997. Grab Boy Wonder while you can.]

  • The Martian Race, Gregory Benford

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Warner Aspect, 1999, 340 pages, C$32.00 hc, ISBN 0-446-52633-9

    The nineties have been an excellent decade as far as Mars and Science-Fiction have been concerned. SF writers returned to the Red Planet en masse, virtually re-inventing our SFictional view of the planet in light of NASA’s latest discoveries about it.

    The crowning Mars work of the decade, of course, goes to Kim Stanley Robinson’s masterful Mars trilogy, which set the tone for a series of scientifically accurate novels perhaps more concerned with writing future history than overblown SF. A refreshing chance after Burroughs’ fantasy Mars.

    Interestingly enough, even though there was a first Mars boom in the early nineties, (Bova’s Mars, Williamson’s Beachhead, Anderson’s Climbing Olympus, etc…) the Pathfinder expedition of 1997 (as well as the flap about Martian “fossils” in 1996) rekindled interest in the fourth rock from the sun. As Hollywood re-discovered Mars on its own (with MISSION TO MARS, RED PLANET, at least one TV movie and persistent rumors of a James Cameron film project), written SF went back to Mars another time: Bova’s Return to Mars, Baxter’s Voyage, Hartman’s Mars Underground, Robinson’s The Martians all went back, sometime literally, to the red planet for one more adventure.

    Now Gregory Benford packs up his rockets and also blasts off to Mars, in an adventure that suffers from a few problem but manages to provide a satisfying read.

    The setup innovates somewhat: Instead of the government directly financing a martian expedition, a series of mishaps convince the government to do business differently: They offer a prize of thirty billion dollars to whoever can get to Mars, perform some exploration and return safely. The novel opens as one expedition financed by a billionaire comes to a close. Of course, disaster strikes, a second expedition pops up, a pair of significant discoveries is made and money threatens to run out.

    The novel begins with a chronologically fractured narrative, which isn’t as successful as a straight timeline would have been. (An approach more similar to Robert J. Sawyer’s usual middle-of-novel-scene-as-prologue might have been more successful than the attempt to pass of the flashback exposition interleaved in the main story.) But as the context is straightened out and the stakes rise, the novel gets steadily more interesting.

    Of course, it helps that Benford has learned how to write clearly. His first novels (even the much-lauded Timescape) were embarrassments of pretentious prose masquerading as depth. Though he always had the capacity to do it (His mainstream thriller, Artifact, dates from 1985) it is only in the last few books (Cosm, most notably) that he’s shown a willingness to stick with an uncluttered, transparent, elegant prose.

    The Martian Race is ultimately a pretty good -though not exceptional- novel of hard-SF. Though the idea-density is low for experienced readers of the genre, they are well-developed and the novel can survive quite easily on its increasingly engrossing narrative. Before long, the title begins to acquire a double meaning that is eventually proven right. Not much suspense, but it doesn’t really matter.

    Though I doubt that Benford’s predictions will be realized -all his wishful anti-government thinking aside-, The Martian Race is another brick in the pro-Mars SF wall. It holds up well to Kim Stanley Robinson’s standard-setting trilogy and represents a good choice for almost any SF enthusiast. Now, if only Mars movies could be as good as Mars books…

  • Oceanspace, Allen Steele

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Ace, 2000, 375 pages, C$30.99 hc, ISBN 0-441-00685-X

    All throughout his SF career (now spanning 11 books in little more than a decade) Allen Steele has shown a remarkable writing talent somehow not fully exploited.

    From the orbital space station of Orbital Decay to the watery depths of Oceanspace, Steele has made some progress, but it’s hard to say if he’s a better writer now than before. His books always seem to struggle at the “good read” level (eg; Clarke County, Space), never somehow going further than that (Labyrinth of Night), or when they do, they contain a crucial flaw that destroys the book (A King of Infinite Space, his best but also his most frustrating work). Fortunately, his short stories are usually more satisfying than his novels, proving once again that some people are simply more suited to shorter-length stories.

    Part of it has to do with his point of view. Steele is one of the few staunchly liberal SF writers in a genre traditionally dominated by conservative ideology. He has written stories praising drug usage (Orbital Decay), blasting eeevil governments (The Jericho Equation) and his stint as a journalist on an alternative weekly paper has left indelible marks on his fiction (again, see The Jericho Equation and, to a lesser extent, All-American Alien Boy). In The Tranquillity Alternative, one of the characters is revealed early on to be a lesbian, virtually ensuring her of a “get out of jail free” card: No way is Steele going to pin the bad-guy role on such a target.

    That’s not the biggest problem with The Tranquillity Alternative, but it’s emblematic of Steele’s lack of sophisticated plotting. Set in an alternate world where the Americans had a space program much, much earlier and then stopped after establishing a moon base, The Tranquillity Alternative is a travelogue in which a last mission to the moon base is perturbed by a terrorist plan. Most of the book is spent travelling to the moon, waiting for something to happen. Then the terrorists do something, the heroes fight back, win and go home. The end.

    The alternate space program is well thought-out (inscribing itself in the steps of Stephen Baxter, another writer who’s spent a lot of time in parallel space expeditions) but the rest of the world isn’t as well put-together. The synchronicity of events between the two universes (going as far as having identical dates to similar events) is either eerie or sign of a hasty world-building, depending on charitable you feel at this moment.

    The result is interesting, and readable as always, but given Steele’s talents, may we not expect more? That’s also pretty much the tagline to any review of Oceanspace, the latest of Steele’s novels.

    Here, Steele leaves space and goes undersea, again mimicking a minor SF trend (what with the undersea novels of Arthur C. Clarke—to whom the book is dedicated- and Peter Watts’ recent Starfish), which is fine as long as he’s got something new to bring to the genre. Unfortunately, Steele hangs a few standard plots and characters to the ocean setting for a result that’s quite entertaining, but at the same time very familiar. Nipick: The presence of CD players in 2011 is unexpectedly jarring; what about MP3?

    But give Steele some credit; here, the journalist isn’t a good person, marital harmony is praised and the traitors are punished. Oceanspace has the characteristics of a good paperback read, though it is definitely overpriced as a hardcover; the idea density simply isn’t there. There’s a sea monster, true, but don’t get too excited as it only make incidental appearances.

    Briefly put, Steele remains at the threshold between good entertainment and good SF, hovering between the two as if he’s unable to find the really good idea and build the really exciting plot to take his books to the next level. You can’t really go wrong by buying a Steele paperback (except, perhaps, for King of Infinite Space) because they’re always exact, fun and readable, but don’t bother springing for the hardcover.

  • The Writer’s Guide to Creating a Science-Fiction Universe, George Ochoa & Jeffrey Osier

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Writer’s Digest, 1993, 314 pages, C$26.99 hc, ISBN 0-89879-536-2

    The very existence of certain books can tell you more than you wished to know about the world. Go to your nearest mega-bookstore and look around at the book categories. Who could have thought that there could be so many new-age freaks, needlepoint enthusiasts or (bookshelves!) amateur gardeners?

    You may think you know all about interest groups, but really; had imagined that there could be a whole series of books for wannabee SF writers? I’m not kidding; Writer’s Digest Books has a series of books aimed specifically at the beginning science-fiction writer. Books on how to create alien societies or create typically “Science-fictive” effects. In hardcover, no less.

    The Writer’s Guide to Creating a Science-fiction Universe has a self-explanatory title. The authors aim to provide any new and struggling writers with an array of facts, thoughts and technique with which to create a believable backdrop for any serious science-fiction story.

    In truth, this is pretty much the only thing a prospective writer has to know in order to write good SF. Whereas good writing techniques can be adopted from almost any other type of fiction writing, the essence of SF is in its creation of imaginary, yet plausible worlds that can withstand the scrutiny of even the most demanding readers. The authors are careful to ground prospective writers in the SF ethos of imaginary realism and the result is a book that’s not only useful, but well-intentioned:  They not only give out specific information, but also encourage the writer to develop a true sense of what is meaningful in the genre.

    It is a measure of how useful this guide is that you can not only read it cover to cover, but also use it as a reference work. The first part of the book is more or less a snappy overview of essential scientific knowledge required to write adequate SF, and one can easily refer to selected excerpts to ensure that they haven’t screwed up. Even though the book dates from 1993, it has aged well so far, mostly due to its reliance on general overviews rather than advanced research (see Charles Sheffield’s Borderlands of Science for a book that fails on this level.)

    And even for those not really interested in writing SF, this Guide can fulfill another purpose: The writing is clear and direct, lively but detailed, so that it can serve as a general science vulgarization book, with occasional asides to recommended SF (in a scientific context) as well as an introduction to the whole idea of SF-as-fictional-study-of-change. There is, easily, a freshmen-level college course in general science to be distilled from this book.

    Interestingly enough, George’s Ochoa bibliography is a marvel of scholarly eclectism, with dozens of books on a wide range of subject, from movies to history, public library answer books to sound recordings. One gets the feeling that be brought the same vulgarization abilities and professionalism to The Writer’s Guide to Creating a Science-Fiction Universe. The result is worth it.

  • Journey into Darkness, John Douglas & Mark Olshaker

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Pocket, 1997, 382 pages, C$8.99 mmpb, ISBN 0-671-00394-1

    Most law-abiding citizen are, at one degree or another, fascinated by criminal behavior. Temptation from the dark side? Vicarious living through the illegal actions of others? Reassurance that being a criminal is always a bad idea? Whatever the reason, the publishing industry has responded in kind: a whole new non-fiction category (“True Crime”) has been created to satisfy a lucrative need.

    Of all types of criminal activities, serial killing must be one of the most incomprehensible to the ordinary mind. One can rationalize theft, fraud, assault or even accidental homicide, but repeated cold-blooded murders are out of anyone’s conceptual framework. And yet, some people make it their job to get into the mind of serial killers. John Douglas is probably the best-known of them, having long been director of the FBI’s profiling unit, which specializes in establishing psychological portraits of typical serial killers. Journey into Darkness is an account of his work, his methods and various cases in which Douglas has some expertise.

    This isn’t Douglas and Olshaker’s first book together, (They also previously wrote Mindhunter) and this has some effect on the book’s ultimate impact. While Journey into Darkness remains a good read, it seems to skirt on a few important issues and suffers from a structure that doesn’t flow as naturally as it should. One get the feeling that this is more of a sequel to a previous book in which all the introductory elements have been explained. Journey into Darkness must assume that most of its readers are already familiar with the basis of profiling, serial killer definition and the high-profile cases in the specialty.

    Even then, however, the book remains worthwhile. For a newcomer to the profiling work, it’s fascinating to see how, from a few clues, specialized FBI agents can deduce or narrow down some characteristics of the killer’s environment, behavior and socioeconomic situation. Douglas explains that most serial murderers are intelligent young white males with few social contacts. They have low self-esteem, often live at home with a relative, have a history of abuse, pyromania and cruelty to animals. They know how to manipulate people and often return to crime scenes.

    Douglas establishes these base elements early on, then use them to show how real profiles can use clues from crime scenes to form a profile. No traces of struggle? The victim must have known the killer. White victims? White killer. Mutilations? History of sexual violence.

    Most of the book is composed of case studies of serial murder cases as examined by Douglas and Olshaker. The writing style is brisk and efficient, allowing for a glimpse in the mind of both criminals and policemen. Of particular interest is the analysis of the O.J. Simpson case. Douglas’ conclusion? Guilty, guilty, guilty…

    Unfortunately, as mentioned before, the book has a few structural problems. One case study is dragged on over several chapters, and however sympathetic the victim was, the book so far had dealt with individual cases in a matter of pages, not chapters. Another source of problems is inherent in the subject matter itself; however fascinating the subject matter is, and despite the good work in presenting the subject, this repetition of true human evil gets repulsive with time even though the interest level remains high.

    We should thankful for people like John Douglas, willing to explore the criminal mind to take away as many of them possible off the street. Journey into Darkness is a good exposition of the work practiced by his equivalents, and the results they get. Even though Mindhunter is probably the best introduction to the subject, don’t hesitate to pick up this one if the subjects fascinates you. And chances are it will.

    [February 2005: Indeed, Mindhunter is almost a prerequisite to Journey into Darkness. Not only does the prequel offer considerable background on John Douglas and the way the FBI profiling program was established, but it also describes how those “rules” of profiling were developped over time. Read it first if you can.]

  • Starfire, Charles Sheffield

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Bantam Spectra, 1999, 401 pages, C$20.95 tpb, ISBN 0-553-37894-5

    Is it possible for a sequel to be… better… than the original?

    Depends on what you mean by sequel. It’s certainly more reasonable to assume that books planned from the onset to be a sequel to a first volume (say, as part of the series) has chances to be more ambitious than the first volume than a book cooked a few years later as a sequel to an initially stand-alone novel. Compare cinema with literature on this point, and after you’ve compared HIGHLANDER 2 with, say, SPEAKER FOR THE DEAD, I’ll rest my case. (Though XENOCIDE could be compared with SUPERMAN III and set off a whole new debate.)

    I was not a big fan of Charles Sheffield’s Aftermath. Partly because it felt more like a disaster novel than science-fiction, partly because it was filled with unsympathetic characters that spent their time discussing various sexual dysfunctions, partly because, frankly, it just wasn’t very interesting. Aftermath, however, was obviously the first volume in a series; the ending, with its last-minute curveball, seemed explicitly designed to whet readers’ expectations.

    I happened, a year later, to grab Starfire off my local library’s shelves. No sense in spending money to read a sequel to a book I didn’t really like.

    Surprisingly, even though I can’t really say that Starfire is all that good, it’s certainly more interesting and more enjoyable than its prequel.

    For one thing, it certainly feels closer to science-fiction than the previous volume. At the end of Aftermath, scientists discovered that they had twenty-five years to prepare a shield to protect them from a serious particle storm headed for Earth. In Starfire, the twenty-five years are up and the final elements of the shield race to completion before the storm hits. But, ah-ha, things suddenly look much worse than previously; the particle storm arrives earlier than expected, packs more punch, and faces a shield that’s dogged by budgetary constraints and sabotage. Seems like, as usual in hard-SF, wacky religious groups just keep wanting the end of Earth.

    As if that wasn’t enough, most of the essential robots of the shield project are controlled by a maniacal dwarf (is there any other kind of dwarf, I ask?), who sends a traitorous woman (is there…?) to seduce a straight-laced engineer (is there…?) Even better; to solve a series of murders on a space station, a shadowy operative contacts a genius ex-serial murderer. (Now, you know that all serial murderers are geniuses.)

    A lot of stuff, mostly already seen elsewhere, but it keeps things moving at a decent pace. The constant sexual obsession of the first volume is considerably toned down and even though some characters approach cliché, it does seem as if they’re a rather more pleasant bunch than in the previous book.

    The details are a mixed bunch. As could be expected from a scientist/hard-SF writer like Sheffield, the science is adequate even though the “one single smart scientist figures it all out” cliché is once again taken for a walk. The political details, however, sound naive and far too convenient, a flaw shared by many similar novels. Political unlikeliness isn’t the only type of doubtful developments in Starfire, however; the whole ending (along with the dinosaur stuff) struck me as essentially preposterous.

    But, even though Starfire isn’t too good, it lends itself to a quick reading, and represents a step up from its predecessor. Unfortunately, it still represents another sub-par novel from Sheffield, who’s shown himself capable of both the best and the worst, often in successive books. Certainly, seeing him turn out two or three novels a year doesn’t do much to inspire confidence; is he spreading himself too thin?

    In any case, those readers who slogged through Aftermath deserve something to lessen the bad taste of it; Starfire might fit the bill. And if you haven’t read the first volume, well, it’s not essential for enjoying this one.

  • Destroying Angel, Richard Paul Russo

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Ace, 1992, 230 pages, C$5.99 mmpb, ISBN 0-441-14273-7

    Each revolutionary artistic current has its host of routine imitators, not necessarily incompetent poseurs, but averagely talented artists who are either fascinated by a new style without being able to faithfully render it, or otherwise tempted by easy monetary gain on the coattails of more innovative material.

    Cyberpunk crashed into science-fiction in the eighties and eventually faded out in the nineties as the world finally caught up to the fiction. William Gibson et al’s vision of tech-smart street people, decaying cities, dominating corporations and “dirty tech” was an all-too-common concern in the Internet-dominated nineties, and if only for this reason, cyberpunk faded out as a genre, though it radically re-energized SF in the process. (Indeed, some of the most successful SF works of the decade managed to incorporate cyberpunk’s native energy, manic invention and fascination with information technology as elements -not keystones- in a larger future tapestry. Interested scholars can look at the career of Bruce Sterling as a perfect illustration of this metamorphosis.)

    In this context, Richard Paul Russo’s Destroying Angel stands as an example of a strictly average cyberpunk novel coming almost at the genre’s death march. It is not bad -or inferior- per se, but it doesn’t really exhibit any superior qualities.

    Certainly, the plot is immediately familiar. In a downtrodden and rodent-ridden San Francisco, an ex-cop with a bad past manages to earn a living as a smuggler. But a serial murderer once thought dead reappears in the City and starts killing again, bringing back the ex-cop straight back to where he had quit the police force.

    In a few words, it’s your standard serial killer plot, along with the flawed hero, noir atmosphere times ten stirred in with the usual cyberpunk gadgets. Any more ordinary and you’d get a book put together with excerpts of previously published stories.

    But I’m being too harsh, because once you’re into the story, Destroying Angel is enjoyable in a strictly-entertainment fashion. The writing is pretty good, Russo creates an acceptable hard-boiled atmosphere, scenes move with a certain efficiency, and it’s hard not to sympathize with the tortured protagonist. Several nice touches, such as the opera-signing ghetto lady, enliven an otherwise routine narrative.

    Only a somewhat useless subplot about a young girl named Sookie drags down the book from its straight-ahead narrative. (Sookie eventually becomes vital to the plot, but the rest of her story smacks of padding in order to obtain a novel-length manuscript.)

    As with any genre, Science-Fiction’s got its blockbusters, its work of art, its true stinkers and total failures. Then there’s the overwhelming majority of the total SF production; wholly average novels that are neither really good or really bad. That’s where Destroying Angel goes; in the vast masses of the averages. To its credit, it doesn’t try to be anything more pretentious than it is; the writing is clean and obviously tries to be entertaining. It’s an acceptable thriller.

    It’s worth a look if ever you come across it at a used book sale and if you don’t have anything more pressing to read. Otherwise, it’s one of those books you can safely skip without missing anything essential to the evolution of the genre. Hopefully, the book brought money to Russo and allowed him to buy a few nice things.

    And sometimes, artistic innovation be damned, that’s all you can ask for: entertainment for the reader and money for the author.

  • Fatal Cure, Robin Cook

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Berkley, 1993, 449 pages, C$8.99 mmpb, ISBN 0-425-14563-8

    As somewhat of a genre reader, I rarely get to read books that make it to bestseller lists. Aside from Tom Clancy, most of the current best-selling authors aren’t favorites of mine. Robin Cook is one of these best-selling authors; Though I was aware that he wrote medical thrillers, the two book from him that I had read before in translation (Fever and Brain) didn’t make enough of an impression on me to lead on to further readings. (Unlike, say, Robert B. Parker—but I digress)

    The literary circles I frequent often resent “bestsellers” as an inferior form of writing, as if being popular required bad writing, simple plot and cardboard characters. Right. Say what you want about the general dumbing-down of the American public (myth!) but truly bad novels go on the slushpile, not the top-ten lists which at worst might be filled with formulaic plotting and familiar characters, but not incompetence.

    After reading Fatal Cure, I’m ready to revise this opinion.

    If you’re somewhat familiar with medical thrillers, you already know the plot: Young couple is lured to a hospital in a city far way from home. But! Patients start dying mysteriously, the hospital’s administrators don’t want to talk about it and, of course, our protagonists are quickly threatened as soon as they investigate further.

    Oh, I’m sure that most readers who paid good money to buy this book and put it on the charts really liked what they read. Maybe they’re just less demanding. Maybe they really like medical thrillers. Mostly they don’t read 150+ books a year like I do.

    Because everything in Fatal Cure reads like a re-run of these 150+ books. With time, avid readers start building up standard templates of familiar stories, and less tolerance for those authors which can’t or won’t surprise them with fresh twist.

    For instance: One of the thrills of crime fiction is to keep guessing the identity of the murderer. Ironically, if the reader figures out the mystery before it’s revealed, it definitely lessens the book’s impact, and takes away from the fun of reading the book.

    Yes, I did figure out the identity of the bad guy in Fatal Cure. Pretty much from the first scene on; it’s that transparent.

    The rest of the book isn’t much better. Every tired plot thread is used shamelessly, from the sick daughter to the sexual harassment subplot to the local sheriff in cahoots with the chief conspirators. So-called “clues” are so obvious that from their very first mention, you can guess how they’ll play later on in the book. So, the young couple buys a house whose owner mysteriously disappeared, but notice a strange smell in the basement. Gee, I wonder what that smell could possibly be…? Not so annoying if they would immediately discover the body, but rather more annoying when no less that 104 pages (69 to 173) pass between smell and body.

    It gets worse; not only is the plot clichéd in every conceivable way, but it is also wrapped in an unsubtle authorial message about how bad HMOs truly are and why Americans shouldn’t support such initiatives. (Hey, in Fatal Cure HMOs breed killer administrators. And that too can be guessed early on.)

    And yet… and yet… Even though most copies of Fatal Cure could spontaneously combust with nary a tear from me (provided the rest of the libraries stay intact), it should be said that once you make it through the first half of the book, it doesn’t get better but it can be read fairly easily, especially if you’re adept at diagonal reading; most of what is expected to happen, happens, and if you enjoy that type of thing, I can see Fatal Cure as average beach reading.

    On the other hand, there’s never a single element to convince me to read another Robin Cook book ever again. Somehow, I don’t think he’ll feel the pain very much.

  • A Civil Campaign, Lois McMaster Bujold

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Baen, 1999, 405 pages, C$35.50 hc, ISBN 0-671-57827-8

    Many nasty things can be said about series of science-fiction books set in the same shared universe. They’re exercise in marketing over art; they repudiate the spirit of unbounded imagination that is at the core of SF; they allow authors to be lazy; they require less mental effort from their readers; they often repeat the same themes over and over…

    Which is why it’s so rewarding to find a series of novels that’s genuinely good. Nearly all of Lois McMaster Bujold’s fiction output so far (minus a couple of short stories and one fantasy novel, The Spirit Ring) has been linked to the “Vorkosigan Universe”, named from the family around which most adventures of the series seem to take place.

    It’s not easy to isolate the secret of Bujold’s success with critics and readers (She has brought home an unprecedented 4 Best Novel Hugos for the series so far) because it appears so transparent; great characters, memorable plotlines, superb dialogue all moved along with crystal-clear writing. But the simplicity of Bujold’s work is deceptive, because it hides in plain view an astonishing mastery of her art.

    The depths upon which the Vorkosigan series are constructed becomes more apparent when considering A Civil Campaign and its two immediate predecessors, Memory and Komarr. Memory was, in many respect, a big important book, both for Bujold and her protagonist Miles Vorkosigan, as he saw himself forced to abandon covert military service and learn to cope with his family obligations in a more direct fashion than previously. At the same time, Bujold was cutting away the important military/action roots of her series. Few authors have the guts to try something as definitive.

    Komarr is often seen as something of a “simple adventure” in the Vorkosigan Universe, a simple matter of Miles investigating a crime in his new job as Imperial Auditor. But A Civil Campaign highlights the importance of the novel in introducing Ekaterin Vorsoisson, who quickly becomes the object of Miles’ affection.

    In war as in love, there are no certitudes, and if Miles Vorkosigan’s first adventures were military in nature, A Civil Campaign is a love saga, blending seamlessly the conventions of regency romance with the Barrayaran aristocracy, a compatible match if ever there was one. (Along with the usual everything-goes-wrong tendency of the Vorkosigan adventures.)

    Everyone who’s read as much as one Bujold novel already know how funny she can be. A Civil Campaign allows her to run wild with comedic scenes. Readers with some attachment to the characters will find themselves swept along, slapping their forehead in embarrassment, grinning ferociously at the witty developments and even shouting out loud whoops of satisfaction at what are known in the trade as “the cool scenes” (of which there are, as usual, many) Few novels, few authors are able to pull in readers as efficiently as Bujold, and for that alone, she deserves special attention.

    In short, it’s really hard to be anything but enthusiastic about the latest Bujold novel, especially when it’s one of her better ones such as A Civil Campaign. On the other hand, like most of Bujold’s novels (Barrayar comes to mind) it’s not a novel that depends as much on its science-fiction elements as other works. Some readers will call it “slight SF”, and in a sense they are right. Even though Bujold’s output is excellent fiction, it’s definitely not strong SF, which explains some of the mixed sentiments about Bujold’s regular Hugo nominations.

    And yet, under the surface, look closer and you’ll find serious SF material nearly everywhere in A Civil Campaign. From the biotechnology of the “butter bugs” (and impact thereof on Barrayaran ecology) to the biotechnology of Lord Dono’s solution (and impact thereof on Barrayaran aristocracy) to the biotechnology of Lord Vormuir’s semi-cloned daughters (and impact thereof on Barrayaran society)… there is no doubt that A Civil Campaign is definitely SF.

    In the meantime, put these esoteric considerations out of your mind and get the latest Bujold. If you haven’t yet started the series, well, it’s not too late to begin…

  • Nocturne for a Dangerous Man, Marc Matz

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Tor, 1999, 470 pages, C$8.99 mmpb, ISBN 0-812-57537-7

    As I accumulate my SF reading and develop more sophisticated tastes in my entertainment choices, I have inevitably progressed past certain things. Star Trek adventures now simply bore me, given that they exhibit none of the intellectual inventiveness, mental challenges and new characters that, to me, have come to represent the best that science-fiction has to offer. The same can be said about scores of run-of-the-mill action/adventure novels, where the thriller mechanics aren’t really enhanced by the science-fiction setting. Especially when it’s “average” SF and/or the thriller plot is more boring than thrilling.

    Don’t read in the above read what I didn’t say: I can always appreciate a good thriller or an unassuming action/adventure SF novel when they have something special, but it takes more than just labeling a tired chase scenario with lasers and robots to make it interesting.

    In this perspective, Nocturne for a Dangerous Man is a half-success. On one hand it’s a complex thriller with decent SF elements. On the other, it’s an overlong bore with nothing really new to say and a paternalistic tone in which to say it.

    It’s typical of the book’s murky impression that the plot can be stated in several fashions. At first glance, it would appear to be a straightforward story where an ultra-competent mercenary protagonist is hired to rescue a damsel in distress. On closer inspection, it’s far more complex than that: The protagonist has to chase down several leads, complete sub-objectives in order to further his mission and contact dozens of past acquaintances to get more information. But look closer, and you’ll find that the kinks of the narrative threads untie themselves to form a single, continuous simple story: That of an ultra-competent mercenary protagonist hired to rescue a damsel in distress.

    In other words, this is a book that ends exactly where you’d think at first, which is to say pretty much like the (great) cover illustration, in which a rugged-looking man hangs on to a helicopter rope ladder with one hand and a beautiful woman in the other while in the background, a cruise ship explodes. For readers, the journey is the goal, not the ending.

    All fine and well; like most Hollywood movie, it’s not uncommon to enjoy a routine plot executed supremely well. But Nocturne for a Dangerous Man isn’t so successful.

    Many difficulties stem from the protagonist’s narration. Just like in most of Robert Heinlein’s best novels, Nocturne for a Dangerous Man is narrated by an astonishingly competent renaissance man, a protagonist trained in the military arts, fluent in dozens of languages, superb cook, expert lover and most probably multiple-PhD-holder for all we know. Needless to say, such characters quickly approach self-parody, a trap that Matz doesn’t entirely avoid here. Just like Robert Heinlein’s worst novels, however, the narration quickly becomes paternalistic, almost as if anyone not knowing a dozen languages, half a dozen fighting techniques, culinary and amorous arts can’t possibly be adequate enough to read the book. This snobbishness tends to grate and grate greatly.

    Adding to the problem is a structure that drags on, and on, and on… The best hard-boiled novels (which Nocturne for a Dangerous Man is obviously trying to imitate) were those which didn’t multiply endless empty complications. (Have you ever read about a glib private eye?) But Matz, for whatever reasons, seems to delight in demonstrating his intelligence to us, which comes out as a net waste of time.

    Too bad, because with some drastic editing, Nocturne for a Dangerous Man would have been a fast-paced, entertaining read. Matz shows a good grasp of SF world-building and the details -plentiful as they are- remain interesting. Despite everything, I’ll take a look at his next novel.

  • Dirty Jokes and Beer: Stories of the Unrefined, Drew Carey

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Hyperion, 1997, 237 pages, C$30.95 hc, ISBN 0-7868-6351-X

    It’s easy to be a fan of “The Drew Carey Show”: As a sitcom, it offers a self-depreciating hero with which it’s easy to sympathize, an interesting cast of wacky characters, often clever humor and fairly good writing. Pay closer attention and you’ll find that “The Drew Carey Show” is a rarity in the sitcom world in that it frequently takes chances in telling stories in an off-beat way. They don’t always succeed, but it’s usually good fun to see a sitcom takes chances and depart somewhat from the usual format.

    “The Drew Carey Show” made a star out of its lead man, Drew Carey, and it was only a matter of time until spinoffs came out. Given that Dilbert already occupies most of the market for nerdish office humor, Carey decided to bring the same spirit of innovation to his money-grubbing techniques that he does with the TV show, and the result is of interest to anyone looking for a good laugh or two.

    As Carey explains in his introduction to Dirty Jokes and Beer, he originally wanted to publish a few short stories he had written. But his fans wanted a book about the TV show and his publishers wanted another one of those “comic guy makes funny observations about everyday life” book. To make everyone happy, Dirty Jokes and Beer contains all three of these things.

    Which means there’s something here for everyone.

    With an extra helping of explicit language.

    Even though I gather that Drew-Carey-the-stand-up-comedian uses liberal amounts of foul language, fans of Drew-Carey-the-sitcom-star might not know otherwise. This book will be an eye-opener. To his credit, Carey doesn’t use gratuitously explicit language and makes it clear from the onset that this isn’t a family-oriented book. As he states in the introduction, “I only left [the nasty words] in because I didn’t think that the things I’d written would be as funny without them.” [P.xv] This is refreshingly in-your-face comedy, as honest as it is politically incorrect. Onward.

    The first part of the book (“Dirty Jokes”) is the “funny observations about everyday life” section. Here, Carey gets to vent about big-screen TVs, how to pick up chicks, presidents, health fads and a heck of a lot of beer. Non-politically-correct observations, of course: Avoid reading if easily offended (but then again, why would have you bought a book called Dirty Jokes and Beer?) Funny stuff. Fans of Carey-the-standup-comedian will probably like this section.

    The second part (“Beer”) is for the other type of Carey fans, given that it directly concerns his life and/or TV show. What’s Mimi like (and other Frequently Asked Questions), reviews of the early criticism, in-house script notes (a real treasure, if you know about the sitcom business), Drew’s unhappy childhood (not a fun moment) and “Hard Copy” appearances, not to mention the dynamics of tabloid popularity. Not always funny, but invariably interesting. Pictures of Drew’s life are included.

    The real surprise comes with “Stories of the Unrefined”, the third and last part of the book. Here, Carey present five short stories to the world, and worries about the effect they’ll have on his reputation. He shouldn’t: The stories are decently written, and pack up decent entertainment in their short length. They’re funny, but in a darker, more adult way than the rest of the jokes in the book. In any case, they’re worth reading.

    The end result, for both readers and Carey, is good entertainment. As with most books in the “comedy” section, this one can be read in a short time, and re-read frequently. Carey fans (both kinds) will find something to like here, and non-fans might even learn to like the guy.